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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867738">Dress Up...</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon'>Unusual_Raccoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lingerie, Retired Vigilantes, Sort of AU, nsfw-ish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:39:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,354</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their anniversary and Laurel decides to surprise Oliver with a gift, but finds out she isn't the only one planning something.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dress Up...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was their anniversary and normally Laurel didn’t like to go all out on gifts and had to make it a point each year to remind Oliver. Simple was better sometimes...</span>
  <em>
    <span>sometimes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes her amazing, patient, loving husband deserved a treat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel also wasn’t one for surprises and frankly neither was Oliver, they were both too jaded and one was liable to end up with a broken something if they tried surprising either Green Arrow or Black Canary; retired or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Smoothing her hands down the newly purchased garment, Laurel let out a breath as she studied her reflection. The snug leather bodice with the tightly wound laces that ran up the middle hugged her every curve and the leather pushed her breasts up rather dramatically. The only potential downside to the outfit was that it made it hard to breathe, but the way Laurel figured it she wouldn’t be wearing it for long. Paired with the bodice was black lace crotchless underwear, simple but effective and pretty damn sexy if she didn’t say so herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Atop her bottom half was the piece de resistance; </span>
  <em>
    <span>fishnets</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The thigh high stockings were connected to a shiny leather garter belt around her waist. She even purchased matching fingerless fishnet gloves that extended up to the elbow. Everything sort of blending into one seamless decadent package. She nervously teased a few white blonde curls atop her head, trying to get the look to be just right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked over her reflection once more, the flesh that wasn’t covered in leather was hard, sculpted sinew and a few pathwork scars; it wasn’t an overwhelmingly feminine look…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel contemplated applying makeup to soften up some sharp edges, but she knew Oliver, one look at her dressed like this and the makeup wouldn’t last long. Her eyeshadow would smear from the sweat, and her lipstick would be smugded away with every hot impatient kiss, and her mascara wouldn’t last long if and when she took Oliver into her mouth; try as she might she could never stop the stupid reflexive watering of her eyes when she gave him head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel checked the time on her phone, dammit where was he? The supermarket wasn’t that far and the list of essentials he’d written up that morning wasn’t so long...The longer she waited, the more nervous she got.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She contemplated texting him, but how exactly could she say she wanted him home without giving up the surprise?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucking in a defeated breath, she kicked off the heels she was wearing and got comfortable on their bed. It seemed like she would be waiting for a while…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laurel roused with a start, shooting into a seated position at the realization that she had dozed off while waiting for Oliver on their bed. Checking her phone, she squinted at the bright numbers displayed on the screen. It seemed she had only snoozed for a couple of hours...a couple of hours and still no text messages from Oliver. Where the hell was he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Letting out a sigh the former vigilante reached for her bedside lamp blindly in an attempt to illuminate the now dark room, her fingers found the little switch mounted beneath the lightbulb. Flicking the switch, Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion as the bulb beneath the lampshade remained inactive. She tried again, off then on again. Nothing. What was going on?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sliding out of bed Laurel ignored the pair of heels she had been wearing earlier, she was still groggy from her impromptu nap and figured walking down the stairs in high heels while half asleep would only result in an injury. Descending the stairs down to the first floor, Laurel felt a chill creep up her spine when her feet met the hardwood floor. It was a habit she had been trying to break since hanging up the mask, this hardwired hypervigilance that made heat curl in the back of her throat on instinct.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a creak in the floorboards, almost like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>groan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was a low and haunting sound that rang out through the startlingly apparent silence. She held her breath, eyes unblinking as a shadow on the corner of the far wall seemed to move. Her arms rippled with goosebumps and the hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shadow moved again, wavering, rippling, </span>
  <em>
    <span>walking...</span>
  </em>
  <span>right towards her. Laurel’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, her gaze studying the walking shadow and the distinct shape of a hood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, that clever bastard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel’s gaze ran over the hooded form of her husband, his head tilted low and a shadow of a smile on his lips. She had half a mind to be pissed at him if he didn’t look really damn good in that suit. Oliver took a step closer, the darkness in the room seemed to follow his command, wreathing him like a cloak. Realizing that this silly game of dress up was something that was intended to be a surprise for both of them made her stomach all glittery and warm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well...she certainly could see why her doppleganger had been so enamored with the vigilante the media outlets had dubbed ‘The Hood’. She had to admit, she wasn’t familiar with that suit, but she liked it; she liked it a lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite the lack of light in the room the hungry gleam in her husband’s eyes was unmistakable. His eyes raked over her from head to toe, and suddenly Laurel was regretting leaving those stupid heels upstairs. The outfit felt incomplete and the bedhead didn’t help either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver took a step closer and seized her hip with a gloved hand, Laurel’s breath caught in her throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Oliver imparted in a husky growl, Laurel shuddered in delight as his warm breath washed over her exposed skin. Oh fuck, she hadn’t heard him use </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> voice in a while. Laurel’s fingers reached up clamoring at the scratchy canvas material of the hood, not daring to pull it off of his head, just clutching onto the fabric in an attempt to hold him close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Laurel echoed in a breathy laugh that melted into a moan at the scrape of Oliver’s goatee, black lacquered nails clawed at the back of the suit in response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think this is my favorite suit you have.” She whispered, enjoying his brief laugh that followed her comment. It was true though, there was something mysterious and thus erotic about the whole getup. Her hands slipped beneath the hood, taking hold of his face to pull him into a hungry kiss, her hips rutting forward to find his in the embrace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel gave a wanting shiver as she felt his gloved hands run up and down her body, palms smoothing up her fishnet-clad thighs, over the glossy leather of the garter belt around her waist, slotting through the laces of the bodice. There was no mistaking the appreciation in his touch, the slow caress that swept over any available skin he could find.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He fumbled with his gloves and Laurel gasped when she finally felt the warmth of his hands when they made contact with her skin. Heat pulsed between her legs as Oliver leaned forward, his mouth ghosting over the tops of her breasts as they were pushed up by the bodice. Laurel jumped with a moan at the teasing brush of those bow-string callused fingers on her exposed sex.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs. NOW.” She ordered breathlessly, her chest blooming with warmth at the radiant smile Oliver gave her in return. Leaning in close he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips that her whole body tingle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Happy Anniversary, Pretty Bird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel bit her bottom lip, unable to truly hide the smile that mirrored his own. She leaned in close, tracing the shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue, “It will be," She said, punctuating her words by nipping at his earlobe, "once you get your gorgeous ass upstairs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Oliver’s turn to quake with the most delicious whole body shiver, and Laurel grinned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, it was a happy anniversary indeed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic turned out differently than when I originally thought it up, I'll be honest. I still wanted to share it though, so here it is.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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